Sunshine, Lightning, and Lullabies
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: "She'd pushed him to the breaking point, but right as his pieces began to shatter and spill onto the dirt, she'd caught him in her arms, physically holding him together like nothing else in the world had ever been this important. For once in his entire life, he had someone to hold him together." A look inside "Coda".


**Ladies. Gentlemen. I am not ok. I am not ok with what happened in the mid-season finale. I am less ok with this than I have ever been about any creative direction this show has ever gone before. I love this show with all my heart, but I feel like what was done in this latest episode was an awful crime. In my opinion, there was no rhyme or reason for what happened. This is my interpretation of what happened in "Coda" and as such, contains many, many, many spoilers. So, if you haven't seen it, or don't know what happens, or don't want to know, don't read this. For those that have, proceed. It is not a pretty road ahead, but perhaps if we band together as a fandom, we can pick up the pieces. As always, I love your feedback.**

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><p>It wasn't supposed to be like this.<p>

_No shit, Sherlock. _

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

_Why would it have ever been any different? _

Because maybe the universe was starting to finally get him a break. Throw him a piece of a bone to gnaw on for a while, just to get the feeling back into his jaws after being sucker-punched the exact same moment the tank had blown apart the prison and his entire world.

This can't be happening.

_Yes it can. It is. _

Everything he had worked for in his life culminated in a pinnacle of the most intense emotion he could have ever experienced, hurtling from relief into gut wrenching despair in point six seconds. It was going to be ok. He had her back. She was back, he had his hand on her, everything was going to be all right. And then in less time it took for him to breathe, she was gone.

_ "She's just gone."_

He had said that to Rick, that stiff morning after the battle with the Claimers, telling him what had happened, where he had been, who he had been with. He'd thought in that moment, voicing his failures to his best friend, that the pain and the guilt couldn't get any worse. Whether Beth was alive or dead in that moment, it didn't matter, because she was gone, and he couldn't bring her back.

That moment with Rick was nothing compared to seeing her like this. Laid out limp and unmoving on the floor, blood clotting in her beautiful blonde hair, the warmth in her skin slipping away like a dying person's last breath rattling into an empty room. The splash of spilt scarlet was the only color he could see. Everything else washed into some dark mix of grey he was certain would never lift.

Retribution meant nothing. It didn't matter that he had ended the person who had done this. Dawn too was laid out dead at his feet, but her life didn't pay the price to bring Beth back.

_There's not enough money or blood in the world to buy back what she had. _

Blood price was nothing new to Daryl. Growing up, he'd paid a blood price from his kin day in and day out, and with that blood, he'd bought strength and skills to endure the end of the world itself. Being related to them, being a Dixon, that was the price, and he had never questioned it.

He'd bartered a blood price to try and save Sophia, but it hadn't been enough. He hadn't been able to save her, but in some ways, maybe, he had saved himself. He'd bought his way into the group with the blood he'd shed looking for her, and in the end, that was the only thing that could have made that little girl's death mean anything good. Looking for her, bleeding for her, almost dying twice to try and save her, it had opened the door for the group to see him as something other than a lone wolf with his fangs out.

_ "And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."_

He'd of given anything to never hear her voice inside his head again. The echoes didn't fade as the minutes passed. They flashed before him, brighter and brighter, like little bursts of lightening across his memory bank, brilliant and beautiful and so fleeting it hurt.

Merle had tried to buy his life back from the Governor and had spilt all his blood to save his little brother. Daryl hadn't been sure the rage at the price he had been forced to pay, bled out onto withered winter grass, surrounded by rotted meat and rusted buildings that would forever be the witnesses to the carnage that had taken place that day, would ever fade. He didn't think it would ever be quieted. He didn't see a reason for it to be.

Somehow, someway, things had changed. Maybe it was the consistent mornings where there was food on the table, fresh water in the showers, reports of Walkers killed off from the fence, Judith's happy squeals, held in the arms of her caretaker who sang her lullabies in a voice that had soothed even him. Maybe it was the menial problems that seemed easily handled with decisive action. Conquering one small thing after another had given them all a false sense of security. Despite everything the world had done to them, they'd forgotten how quickly things could change. They'd beaten the Governor back, they'd cemented their position in the prison, they took in new members to the group. Everything was stable, everything made sense. Everything was good. Good in the sense that this was as happy as Daryl could ever remember feeling. True, he went out on hunts with Michonne, still not quite sociable, still focused on the mission, on protecting his family at all costs, because this family who wasn't blood was all he had now. As time wore on, and the air shook off winter's chill and slid into spring, he began to think that chasing after the Governor was a waste of time. He didn't need to be out there, risking life and limb, not for that one eyed psycho. He was needed at home. Rick needed him. The group needed him. And Daryl was nothing if not a man who would step up when things needed to get done.

He was ashamed to say he had underestimated Beth, but then again, everyone had. Christ on a cross, she had tried to kill herself, and that was at the farm- when things were good. When they didn't really know the meaning of hunger. When they didn't really know the meaning of sleeping with one eye open, of never resting, of never letting their hands let go of their weapons. Opting out had never been a choice for him. Confronted with Andrea's desire to give up had sickened him. He hadn't understood. He had lost Merle, but he wasn't willing to lay down and die. It just wasn't a choice. When he'd heard that Beth had actually sliced open her wrist he'd been surprised she went for it, and nearly disgusted all the same. If the girl wanted to die, they should have let her, he had thought so long ago. They couldn't afford to waste time and resources on someone who wasn't willing to fight.

After they lost the farm, he had been surprised she'd survived. Winter on the road was probably the hardest way to live life in this world, but she had made it. They all had made it. She wasn't much when it came to a fight, but she'd found her place by looking after Carl and Lori, which freed Rick up to be the leader that they needed, and Daryl stepped up right at his shoulder. Rick was a good man, and Daryl decided if he was going to live and fight in this world, this was the best lot he could have gotten, and so he'd pull his weight to help them. It didn't make the grief of the losses of the ones they'd loved and fought for less, but it gave them a reason to keep going, and that was way more than he'd ever had before. Before the world had ended, Daryl's own world had never really gotten started. He'd never been allowed to be his own person, always bending to the wishes of his father, and then his brother. It was as if he was a shell without a soul, and at the time, he hadn't even realized it. Not until the group, not until he'd bartered Death with his blood had realized there was something in him that was much more than white trash and bolts for his crossbow.

Death wouldn't take the bait, and they'd lost Sophia, Dale, and the farm, but he'd found the doorway to his home. Finding food, shooting Walkers, tracking, breaking into shelters and herding the group left and right to keep them out of danger, being Rick's back-up, that was his place. Daryl didn't want to lead. He didn't know himself well enough to know what kind of decisions he was even capable of making. Not then. So he was content to stay at Rick's side, working with him, keeping them all safe, because this was the best that he could do, and in a brief moment of respite, it was enough.

He had never guessed that the first time he'd turned to her for help that it would be the tiniest spark to something he couldn't even conceive of happening. Maggie and Carl had staggered out of that cellblock, Maggie clutching a bloodied Judith, and Rick had dragged himself forward towards his son, collapsing into a heap of shattered hopes as he realized what had happened. Daryl knew immediately that he had to step up, he had to take care of them. Rick was unreachable at the moment, but the group was tail-spinning, and even if it was a slash across the chest to see his friend break so completely, he didn't have the time to go twelve rounds with it now.

He had turned to her, urging her to look after Carl, because he wouldn't be there. He had to go and find supplies, because he'd never let a child die if he had anything to say about it. He'd been surprised, and yet not at all, when she'd stepped up and confidently assured him she would stay close to Carl and make sure that he was as ok as it was going to get right now. It was probably the first time he'd seen her as capable, and it felt good. She was one of the weakest members of the group, physically speaking, and if she could be strong, steady, and confident- it made him feel as though they would get through this. They would weather the storm and come out ok. They'd all have new scars, but they would still be alive. Still willing to fight.

He hadn't been there to see it, but later the group had told him about the scuffle between Merle and Glenn, the two clashing over how best to handle their impending showdown with the Governor, and how she had marched in and decided enough was enough, that this shit wasn't going to be happening anymore, not under her watch. A single bullet and fire in her eyes had been all the words needed to break up the fight. Out of the mouth of babes, a badass with the guts to challenge his big brother. He wouldn't have believed it if his family hadn't been the ones to tell him. Later on, he would get a taste of her wrath too, and he would understand what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one of her icy gazes.

Carol had told him later that when he had left with Merle she was the only one who had been outright pissed at him. Pissed not just for abandoning his family to run off with a man like Merle, but angry because he was denying who he really was inside, so easily slipping back into the man he had been before, the man he'd fought so hard to kill so he could be reborn into something better. He'd been surprised to learn she cared that much, that he meant that much to her, that she knew him so much better than he would have ever believed. Her forgiveness had been earned the moment he set foot back inside the prison, ready to deal with any and everything he had to in order to make living with Merle and the group work out. He knew it would mean having to stand up to his big brother. Of having to say enough was enough, to cut his bullshit out, to grow the hell up and be a real man, not the white trash, mangy mad-dog pit-bull their father had raised. But hell, if she could do it, so could he. He damn sure wasn't going to be shown up by a pint size blonde.

He didn't know exactly why he decided to be the one to go tell Beth that her boyfriend Zach had been killed. Maybe it was because he'd known her the longest out of the runners that had gone out. Maybe it was because he was looking for a reaction. A reaction that he actually didn't get, at least, not how he had ever imagined it going.

"I don't cry anymore, Daryl," she said simply. As if it meant nothing.

Daryl didn't have any experience with being in a relationship with someone, of being partnered with someone in a romantic way, but he had seen Beth and Zach together various times. They'd eat together, and Zach would say some stupid joke to make her laugh. They'd kiss when they'd think Herschel or Maggie wasn't looking. Beth would tease him and make the boy blush a little. It seemed innocent and playful, not like what Maggie and Glenn had, but maybe like it could have been. Yet her words conveyed a sound as if she didn't care, and maybe had never cared.

Until she'd asked him if _he _was ok. Like losing someone probably meant more to him than it did to her, and he didn't understand any of it. His entire way of looking at her was beginning to grow fuzzy and hard to make sense of. He'd been surprised when she'd hopped off the bed and put her arms around him in an awkward and stiff embrace, mostly because it was so one-sided. Daryl had come a long way, but being touched was still something he wasn't accustomed to. Definitely something he didn't invite or ask for. Yet she reeled him in, unflinchingly and without hesitation. He didn't know what it meant, but even then, he'd known that it couldn't have been a bad thing.

When the sickness had hit, everyone had to do double duty in order to just barely keep things on their feet. He'd been grateful that she was there to help keep the ship running when he and a few of the others had left to go find medicine for the group. This time he'd had faith in her without question that everything would be ok. He hadn't second-guessed her confidence. She had a job to do, she was going to do it, and everything else would be handled when it came time. She had reminded him of himself, and it made leaving the group in such a fragile state a tiny bit easier.

Then the Governor came and shattered the world. Blew it up, literally, like a comet careening into the side of the prison. Panic, chaos, blood, screams, dust, flames, ashes, it had all raged around them like a warzone. All he had wanted was to kill the man who had destroyed their family. He would be paying a blood price all right, and it wouldn't be his own blood. He'd buy back his family's safety with the blood of a monster, and it would be a bill long overdue. He'd of given almost anything to kill the man himself. It didn't matter that it wouldn't rebuild the prison, that it wouldn't regroup his family, that it wouldn't keep them safe anymore. It would quell the white hot rage burning in his belly and if anything, be his revenge for what had happened to his brother, and now, to his entire family. It would be his punishment, his justice, and if he couldn't have peace, that would have to be enough.

But he didn't get that chance. Because the Walkers were closing in and standing next to him was Beth. Survival had fought for its place at the front of his brain and he knew that they had no choice but to run. If they wanted to see another sunrise, they had to flee. He couldn't think about his family, he couldn't think about his home, he couldn't think about the man he wanted to tear to pieces. The only thing he could think about was that if he and Beth didn't run for their lives, they would be dead, and his instinct was too strong to ignore. Having her helped push him away from the smoldering ruins of the prison, it helped him by having her to protect. He knew he would have to save her, and it wasn't the best lot in life, but it was what he had, and it was a reason, and that was enough.

They ran for their lives, refusing to stop until they literally collapsed into an empty field and stared at the sky, gasping for air, his nicotine coated lungs almost on fire with how hard they were having to work for oxygen. He was seriously going to have to lay off the smokes if he wanted to be able to keep running for his life. It pissed him off something fierce that he had to keep running, that he couldn't just finally have something good and keep it, but what was the point of being mad? There was no point to anything. Their family was dead. Their home was destroyed. All he had left was a girl he barely knew who had probably killed less than ten Walkers since this mess had started.

The worst of it was that it had been his fault. He knew he was a better tracker than Michonne, he'd been doing it his entire God damn life, and he'd thrown in the towel when she'd chosen to keep looking. The destruction of their entire world was on his shoulders, and it didn't matter what happened now, they were never going to get that safety back. Hell, they were probably never going to see any of their family ever again anyway. The odds were that the prison yard was piled high with their corpses. The thought of that their staggering bodies, crawling and scraping and gnashing, just another walking corpse on a never ending quest for meat made him want to retch.

He couldn't say a word to Beth. For fuck's sake, she'd watched her father's head be nearly hewn off, and it was all his fault. All he could do was try and keep them fed and keep them safe from Walkers, although he wasn't sure the point. Her attempts to get him to speak both frustrated, and meant nothing to him. If ever at any moment in his life he'd wanted to die, it had been then.

And somehow…she'd saved him. The physically weakest member of the group had been the one to rescue him; the man who had refused to be saved by anybody, who despised asking for help, who had always wanted to be able to make it on his own. She had been the one to pull him back from the pit of despair he'd been gearing himself up to pitch himself into. It wasn't as if it had been easy. She'd screamed. She'd fought. She'd pushed and shoved and dragged and finally thrown herself at his back and clung on for dear life, absolutely refusing to let him go, and the heart wrenching thing about it was that it wasn't about her holding onto him because she needed him. It was about her holding onto him because he needed to know he was not alone, because she had wanted to save him. To give him some kind of feeling besides the crushing guilt and despair of losing the one thing he had always wanted and never believed he had deserved, but somehow had managed to find, until it was torn away like ripping his arms off his shoulders. He didn't deserve to be saved like this, and yet, it was as if it had never even been a question.

The night at the funeral home, resting easy in the coffin as he listened to her play the piano and gently sing, he had wondered how he had been able to become so close to her so quickly. It had taken Carol literal years to be this close to him, and yet within a matter of days she had burrowed her way into his heart and would never be replaced or outshone by anybody else. He'd listened to the melody of her voice and began to wonder if it was because Carol had steadily lost hope in the world, while Beth had increasingly regained hers. He loved Carol because of how much he understood her, because of how much she understood him, because of the way they knew how to cope with each other's pain with perfectly awkward finesse and how they were able to be together without opening up each other's wounds. But she'd turned cold as the year had gone on, and when Rick had told him what she had done to Karen and David, he hadn't wanted to believe it was the truth, but he knew deep down, there was no denying it. It was the truth and it marked a terrible turning point. She may have been trying to protect the ones she loved, and he knew without a doubt she did love them with everything she had, but the Carol he had known, the one who had valued innocence and hope had died. She'd been on life support after Sophia, and he had hoped that maybe he could bring her back, that if he provided and kept them safe, that she would regain that quiet sense of peace and hopefulness that had drawn him to her in the first place, but when Rick had told him the truth, he knew he'd failed.

Beth was different. At first Beth had turned to stone, not knowing of any other way to keep the pain from crushing her and killing her will to live. But somehow, despite the horror, the unimaginable and unspeakable atrocity that had occurred, she found the courage and the will to hope. To want things she had never had before. She'd demanded he let her go and that she was going to find herself a first drink and even though it was the most absurd thing they could have spent their time on, he went with her. He may have thought her naïve, he may have thought her weak, but he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. In fact, he was going to get her what she'd asked for, because she deserved it. They all deserved a little hooch to kill the despair trying to strangle them from the inside out.

Her stupid game had riled him, had caused darker parts of himself that had been hibernating to reawaken. Parts of himself that he was ashamed of, parts he wished she had never ever seen. He had grabbed her, pulled her, twisted and pinned her against him, scaring her and angering her all the same time. The alcohol had deluded his judgment and restraint, but as they argued, her words had cut through all the bullshit like a knife. Everything she said, every syllable, rang like a brass bell of honesty. He didn't want to hear that there were reasons to not give up. He didn't want to hear the truth of how he had underestimated her. How wrong about her he had been, but she dished all his pain right back in his face.

But she wouldn't leave him to sit with it alone. She'd pushed him to the breaking point, but right as his pieces began to shatter and spill onto the dirt, she'd caught him in her arms, physically holding him together like nothing else in the world had ever been this important. He couldn't face her, he couldn't look her in the eye, all he could do was let go, because finally, for once in his entire life, he had someone to hold him together. This wasn't like when Merle had died, where he had shattered on the ground and had laid there for hours before he found the will to pick himself back up. This wasn't cutting his metaphorical fingertips on ragged glass as he tried to glue himself back together again. This was her, brave enough to break down his walls, and then preventing him from coming unglued all at once. This was the shelter of someone who had been in his shoes and had found reasons to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but even more than that, to keep her head up, to smile, to want things she had never had before. She was braver than he would ever be for that, and even if he would never say a word to another soul, when her arms came around him, it was as much her protecting him from the brutality of the world, as it was protecting him from the knife sharp pieces of himself that threatened to destroy him from the inside out, and it all came to a head wrapped in her small, slender arms.

After that, to touch her was to feel that wonderful sense of stability and hopefulness again. He would not reach for her unless the moment called for it, but she was braver than him, and she would reach out to him, believing she deserved it, and somehow, willing to settle for him. Holding his hand at the gravestone in the cemetery, interlocking their fingers, laying her head against his chest because she wasn't tall enough to reach his shoulder. The pain of what they had lost throbbed between the two of them, but they were together, they were holding each other up in different ways, and it was not resolved, but it was bearable.

He had carried her into the house, teasing her about her being heavy when it reality she weighed little on his back. He could feel her press her cheek against his shoulder blade and maybe even smile just a little, and it made him huff an amused breath too. That she could be that comfortable that quickly. It was so entirely different from Carol, where every motion was a boundary that they had no idea if they were allowed to cross. Beth crossed them all, not because she was selfish or greedy, but because it was just the right thing to do, the human thing to do, and she was brave enough that she dared to do it, and she would always be there to keep him steady.

Having dinner surrounded by candles and more food than they had seen in days had bolstered him to suggest that maybe they could stay here. There were woods surrounding the property where he could hunt squirrels and other game when the food ran out, he knew there would also be freshwater nearby, that even if the people who had made this stash came back, that they could be ok. That they could make it work.

_"So you do think there are still good people." _

He didn't know if there were still good people or not. He was hopeful that she wasn't the last one, but to him it didn't matter if he ever met another one or not. He'd never wanted much. Never needed much. He'd always been able to get by on a lot less than anybody else he'd ever known. He had her, and that was enough for him. That wasn't to say that it negated the loss of the group. She didn't take away the gaping hole that was still ripped through his insides. But she was like sunlight bursting through an iron grey sky in the dead of winter. She warmed him through to the very core of himself. Her laughter, her teasing, her blue eyes that were as powerful as lightening and as giving as spring rain. Looking at her made it possible to think that there was a future where the pain had ebbed and he was once again happy.

_"What changed your mind?" _

He couldn't put it to words. He didn't have the same bravery she did. He could face a herd of Walkers with nothing but his knife and three bolts in his crossbow, but he couldn't say it to her face what was really going on in his head. What felt like a lifetime ago, he'd dared to have these moments with Carol too, but they had always simmered into nothingness, confusion and unanswered questions and uncertainty of the future settled uneasily over them, the only thing comforting was that they were still together, still not alone, still with the opportunity to maybe heal.

With her, it was different. With her, it wasn't just an opportunity. It was a wanting, a willingness. If she could heal, if she could hope, then he could too. He could, because she could. He didn't care that he wasn't able to do that independently of her. That wasn't what mattered, not in circumstances like this. What mattered was he could at all, and what made her mean so much to him, was that she was all the reason for it.

_"Oh."_

The softest understanding of that three-letter word he just couldn't bring himself to say out loud, but said with his gaze as summer and winter sky eyes met across the table, candlelight flickering across her lovely skin, casting her in alabaster gold. If he had ever loved someone more, he couldn't remember the moment, and it gave him the courage to hold her gaze.

He didn't know if he would ever be whole enough to touch, to be someone that she needed. He didn't know what she was looking for in him, but the beautiful thing was, in those moments when she smiled at him, it was as if she wasn't looking for anything from him. He didn't have to give. All he had to do was be. All he had to do was stay close and it seemed enough for her. He didn't know why, he didn't know how, and he was much too shy to ask, but maybe in time he would be able to.

He hopped into the coffin and urged her to play and watched her with half lidded eyes and he dared to picture the future. He thought of how they could make this building even more secure, how they could set up a perimeter defense just in case the Walkers found them. How they could horde food and water and other supplies to last through the winter. What it would be like in spring when the thaw broke, if they could plant any kind of crops the way they had at the prison. He pictured her working in the heat, her slim shoulders bared, her hair tied up in a mixture of messy braids and ponytails to keep it away from her face as she dug through the dirt. He pictured teaching her how to track, how to skin a deer, the best way to smoke and salt the meat so it stayed edible for longer. He even dared to think of maybe taking her by the hand on his own, of pulling her into him, of what it would be like to feel her warmth against him and if maybe he could ever heal enough to be someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Running from the Walkers after they'd busted into the house, he had been expecting to catch up, to find her tearing along the road and together they'd flee for the safety of the woods, moving onto the next place to stay safe, to keep staying alive. It would have been all right with him. So long as he had her at his side, it was ok with him to live a life on the road. It wasn't easy or comfortable and it would never be safe, but with her to keep him going, it would be ok.

But when he'd lost her…when she'd vanished, snatched up in a car with a white cross, he had panicked. He knew it was stupid to try and keep up, but maybe they weren't going far. Maybe they would stop if they saw him running. He didn't know why they took her or what they planned to do, all he knew was she was gone and he couldn't rest until he had her back. He screamed her name, desperately hoping to somehow stop the madness that was tearing her away from him, but his cries had gone unanswered along that merciless stretch of blacktop.

He ran after them all night, following that long, desolate stretch of road, hoping, praying to a God he didn't know if he believed in, to find her, to catch up, to have her back because he could not do this on his own.

_"You're gonna be the last man standing." _

That would have been the turning point for him, a point he would never recover from. When he came to that intersection, without a single trace of where that car had gone, he'd collapsed, everything inside him breaking apart. Physically he was exhausted, but that wasn't what had stolen the strength in him. It was that he was faced with the crushing darkness of being alone. It didn't matter the sun had risen, it didn't matter that he'd escaped the Walkers. There was nothing around him but silence and he was utterly without strength or desire to get up. He could have laid down on that pavement and just allowed himself to starve to death, so great was the depth of his despair.

_"You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon."_

Beth had never been anything less than honest with him, and even in her drunk, slightly slurred voice, that cutthroat honesty honed in and hit him right where he felt it the deepest. She had no idea how right she'd been. He had known it, and it had made him stare her in the eye, silently begging her not to pour that horribly bitter truth down his throat. That was the difference between her and Carol. Carol knew the truth, but she could never smile for it, she could never find the horizon line where the sun broke through the night. Beth could, even sober, even faced with catastrophe. Sure, it would take time, but so much less time than it would have for people who weren't her. Maybe almost killing herself had given that gift. Maybe she'd been born with it. He'd never get the chance to know the truth.

When the Claimers first appeared, he had no desire to deal with them. He had hoped they would just move on and leave him to die, but instead they insisted on picking a fight. If a fight was what they wanted, a fight was what they would get. He went with them for no other reason except to kill the silence. His instincts refused to allow him to die like this. This wasn't a great lot, but this was all he had. It wasn't a good reason. It wasn't _her. _These men were the furthest thing on the spectrum from Beth, but so long as they were around, someone was talking, someone was hunting, someone was scavenging, and if they could walk forward, so could he, at least until he got his feet under him enough to leave on his own. And after that…after that he didn't know what the plan was.

When Len had made those remarks about her, he could have killed the man. He was willing, ready, and certainly more than able. He'd of ripped him limb from limb, not only for the filth of his words, but also just because he was itching for something to take his rage at the world, and himself, out on. No matter how hard he'd worked, no matter how hard he'd tried, no matter what promises he made to himself, or anybody else, it was never enough. He'd failed everyone, but most especially, he'd failed her, the one unexpected good thing that had crash-landed into his life exactly when he needed it most. He wasn't able to put it into words how empty he felt inside, but he wouldn't dare to show weakness in front of these men. These people (and he was using that term awful loosely) were not his family. They were all alpha males, and Joe was just barely keeping them in line with his bizarre claiming rule. Daryl could understand that simple code. It made sense, it wasn't that far off from how he had used to live before the group, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"_You have to stay how you are now. Not who you were." _

It took everything he had not to let anyone hear him cry himself to sleep as he tasted the bitterness of defeat and felt the aching loneliness that was like having his heart ripped out every time he heard her voice inside his head.

Staying with the Claimers was the exact thing Beth would have despised, but he hoped that she wouldn't think too badly of him for it. He needed someone to watch his back, if only so he could catch a few hours sleep. He had suspected their brutality the moment he'd met them, but it had been confirmed when Joe had given the order to 'teach Len a lesson.' And just like a pack of wild dogs, they'd torn him to pieces. The weakest link wouldn't survive in this group. It was vicious, inhuman, and carnal, and it had sickened Daryl, even if it rang a familiar chord in him. But it was a chord that he disliked, a note that he had wanted to leave behind, that he had put away when he'd paid his blood price for his family. Daryl knew he needed to leave, but the thought of facing the silence of isolation was enough of a drive to keep him moving in the same direction as Joe and the others.

And then they had found Rick, Carl, and Michonne. Right then and there, he'd of died for them to satisfy the Claimers' bloodlust. He would have gladly paid that blood price to keep them safe. That wasn't how the show was rolling though, and soon enough he found himself in a flurry of fists and feet, punishing, bone jarring blows. His skull rang and rattled as a fist collided right in his eye, the strike so solid that it temporarily blinded him. But he would not go down like this. He refused to give up, he refused to lie down and let them kill him, not when his family was so close, not when his only chance at maybe being happy was right there in front of him. Those three were not Beth, they were not that girl made of sunshine, lightning, and lullabies, but they were his family, and he loved them as if they were his blood, and he was prepared to die for them.

When Rick got the upper hand on his opponents, Daryl had seized his opportunity. Startled by Rick's savagery, his fist collided again and again with the flesh and bones of his enemies until he'd gotten a hold of his gun and blasted holes in their brains. He'd turned just in time to see Rick ripping out Joe's throat with his teeth, and what a fitting end it was for a man who encouraged such savagery in everyone around him.

When it was all over, he'd come and sat next to his brother in all but blood and told him to wash his face, so his boy wouldn't have to see him like this. Daryl had sensed the change in Rick, what he was now willing to do to protect the ones he loved. He wouldn't lie to himself, it did frighten him. The Rick he'd met those years ago in the quarry, the one who had risked a city full of Walkers to go back for a man like Merle…that was not the man sitting next to him now, but Daryl believed that the old Rick was still in there. And Rick had assured him that he was still the man he knew, but he was simply more now. He'd said it without guilt, without remorse, without fear, and somehow, it soothed Daryl's disquiet. It would take time to really understand how much Rick had changed, but he was sure he would in time, and that just because there was a dark, bloody side to him that the sheriff hadn't been killed yet.

_"Is she dead?"_

He'd dared to confess what had happened with Beth, not knowing of anyone else who he could trust with it. It hurt too much to look him right in the eye as he spoke, every word ripping at his heart until it felt like the night had replayed all over again.

_"She's just gone."_

He couldn't say anything else, because in truth, he didn't know what had happened to her. He couldn't understand any of it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know why whenever one good thing happened to him it had to be taken away. Knowing why would never change what had happened. He didn't know if she was alive. He hoped if she was, that she was safe, that she would do everything in her power to come back to him. He was scared for her to try and navigate this Walker and tyrant infested world on her own. She was such a little thing, soft skin and white gold hair, smiles and melodies on her lips, believing in innocence and compassion. If she ever came across men like Joe, she'd be torn to pieces, and that thought alone made his stomach twist violently. But she wasn't as weak as she had been. She'd proven her strength over and over to him.

_"I'm not Michonne, I'm not Carol, I'm not Maggie. I'm not like you, or them, but I made it!" _

She had, and he had to hold out hope that she was still alive, that she was fighting, that she would never accept being taken away from her family. From him.

Terminus was a nightmare he never wanted to remember. In some ways, he was grateful that Beth was not there to see it, was not there to know the horrific, inhuman atrocities that had occurred in that place. He would have never wanted her subjected to such terror. Very little frightened Daryl, and those monsters, who were certainly not people anymore, had frightened him. Frightened him because of how close he had come to having everything as close to Before as he could get, and then losing them in the most sickening way imaginable.

He would have never predicted Carol would have been the one to rescue them, and when he'd seen her emerge through the woods, his bow trailing at her side, he'd rushed to her, seizing her in his arms, burying her face into her neck, the softest whimper escaping him because here at last, a piece of the rock he'd built his world around had been returned to him. In that moment, it didn't matter what she'd become. All that mattered was that she was still alive, all hope was not lost. Everything was not ok, but maybe, just maybe, it would be. With her at his side, he felt more stable, more able to handle whatever was going to be coming for them next. It meant everything to him that she was here, and after he'd lost so much, he could not believe for a second that Rick would dare to send her away again. This time, he wouldn't let him. He'd fight for her to stay with the group. They couldn't afford to lose the precious people they loved. They had all done things they wish they hadn't been forced to do. It didn't change what Carol had done, but the circumstances didn't allow for rejection anymore. They'd been careless, they'd taken advantage of the peaceful slumber that had taken them over at the prison. They had no such luxuries now.

It wasn't even a question ramping up the car to chase after the vehicle that had whirled by, the white cross across its rear view windshield a glaring sign burned across Daryl's cornea that marked the people who had stolen Beth. That Carol decided to go with him had surprised him in some ways, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to be so isolated with her yet, but it didn't matter. The mission was in front of him, and maybe this would be a chance to finally come to an understanding of where he stood with her. He didn't know if it was possible for two people so damaged to come together and make each other whole. He didn't even know if she wanted that chance with him. He didn't know if she thought he was even capable of it. Her words were cryptic and cold and had made his heart ache, and as they watched the world through the shelter's window, watching a dead city slowly turn in its grave, he longed for Beth. Beth made sense to him in ways that actually defined all understanding. There was no mystery to her, at least not the same way there was with Carol. What he knew for sure was that Beth would never be scattered ashes. Beth would always believe people could be saved. It was the mark of an ironic universe that he found himself with a woman he had once thought might be his chance at not walking through this world on his own, on a mission to rescue another girl who in such a short span of time, had become his reason to believe in hope for better things.

Watching Carol be snatched away by the very same people who had stolen Beth caused anger so hot that it had all but exploded through him like a blast of buckshot straight to the chest. The two people who were arguably the closest to him in the world had been taken away by the very same group, and he'd be damned if he let them rot in that hellhole of a hospital. Noah had offered to help him get them back out, and he had to respect the kid for being brave enough to stick around after Daryl had very nearly killed him. Daryl was damn near ready to smash through every wall with their stolen truck to rescue both of them, but he knew he needed to return to the church, he needed to reunite with the group and tell them what had happened. He didn't know if Rick would see wisdom in braving Atlanta to try and rescue Carol and Beth, but Daryl wasn't about to let that stop him. He'd convince the man, no matter what it took. Fortunately, it hadn't taken a single word of convincing. All he'd had to say was that Carol and Beth were trapped inside the hospital, and Rick was up in arms to rescue them. Maybe his experience with losing Andrea to Woodbury had changed him, had made him realize how much reward risk could bring.

Daryl hadn't wanted bloodshed. He didn't want people to die over this. Nobody needed to die. All it needed to be was an exchange. A life for a life. Nothing had to be complicated, nothing had to be violent. He wanted to believe that everything could be ok.

Seeing her, alive, with that brilliant lightening like fire in her eyes had warmed his blood like no moonshine ever could. And Carol, wounded, but with strength flowing through her at the sight of her family, it bolstered his confidence, and his belief that he had done the right thing by counseling Rick to show restraint. Maybe that was what he was here for now. Maybe now that Herschel was gone, it was his time to step up and be Rick's moral compass. He could live with that, but at the moment, all his focus was on the two women.

Carol came over first, and he'd roughly marched the one cop back across to Dawn and her team. It took every instinct in him not to just grab Beth and reel her into him. To just take her and go and be done with this before anything could happen. He would forever regret not doing so.

They'd exchanged the second prisoners, and Daryl would forever feel guilty for not pulling Beth close as he had wanted to, for not showing her openly how much it meant to him that she was back at his side. He'd laid his hand across her shoulders, a cautious smile daring to creep into his eyes, but she had failed to return it, and it meant that he should still be on his guard. Immediately he had stiffened when Dawn had tried to demand Noah back.

Daryl could immediately sense that Rick was rapidly becoming agitated, beyond the point where he would be willing to show restraint, and Daryl was losing patience with this tight lipped bitch who had cut Beth's face, held her against her will, and treated her like some workhorse. He'd pushed Noah back in the chest to stop him from returning to Dawn and decided to follow Rick's lead, but the lanky boy stepped up and slid past them. Daryl didn't know if Rick was going to allow this, but he would back the man's play regardless. His main priority was getting out of this place with his family safe, and if Noah elected to stay behind to make that happen, then it was a sacrifice, but it had been of his own free will.

_"Wait!" _

As she was so oft to do, Beth rushed past them and seized Noah in a tight hug. Noah had told him the story of how she had helped him escape, and it did not surprise Daryl in the least that the two had managed to become as close as two people held hostage could have been in the time they'd spent together. Beth had that affect on people. She inspired people to fight for something better, to put long held dreams into action. She'd certainly worked a number on Daryl, the book of how to recover from childhood abuse still tucked away safely in his bag physical proof of how much she had made him willing to change.

She'd let go of Noah, and Daryl was certain that was going to be the end of it. She was going to come back to his side, they would all retreat, meet back at the church, and catch up with Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham's group. Daryl was actually looking forward to having a long standing goal in mind. A mission, something to work towards, something concrete he could throw his energy into. And maybe Beth would even stay close to his side, maybe they could build on what they'd started. Maybe this would be his chance to help him cement himself into the man that she believed him to be.

But that wasn't what had happened. Beth had stalked towards Dawn, defiance written on her face, an expression so unlike what he had known from her in the past, but now knew she was capable of. He had the feeling that she had been a handful while she'd been held here against her will, that she hadn't given an ounce of ground or shown any cowardice. She really was so much braver than any of them had ever given her credit for.

_"I get it now." _Her words were choked with anger. She was never going to let this injustice stand. Daryl didn't know what may have happened to her inside this hospital, but it was exceedingly clear that Beth was determined to stop it before she made her escape with her family.

The next seconds would forever haunt him. Beth had lunged, stabbing Dawn in the chest with a pair of scissors, and a gunshot burst through the hall. So acclimatized to violence and battle conditions, Daryl's eyes hadn't flinched for even a moment, and so he'd witnessed in all its earth shattering horror as a bloody hole burst through the back of Beth's skull. He'd heard the way she'd crumpled to the ground, felt the way the floor rattled a bit as she'd fallen. Seen the spatter of scarlet blood that should never ever have been split.

The horror was written on his face, even as Dawn's words were soundless on his ears. All noise faded and nothing else existed except the cold weight of the gun. He drew, aimed, and fired in a single motion even as his eyes burned with tears that he could not hold back.

Dawn's skull burst as the bullet slammed through her forehead as she collapsed onto the ground, falling backwards away from Beth. Daryl could see that Rick had also drawn his python and the two men were prepared to gun every single one of these terrible monsters down. He couldn't hear the words exchanged, the focus of his world narrowed down into that terrible spatter of scarlet and the lifeless stillness of his beloved Beth at his feet.

Rick managed to get them to stand down. Daryl didn't know where he had the strength, the only thing he knew was that he would never leave her here. He could literally feel his heart shredding itself with teeth all its own, ripping it into such small pieces he was sure he would never be whole again. He bent down and gathered her into his arms, clutching her close, holding in the wail of despair that threatened to escape him because he didn't have the breath inside his lungs to scream.

His family formed a protective wall around him as they escaped the hospital. He could think of nothing except how cold she was already, and how small she was in his arms. The difference of the limp, dead weight against him compared to the way he had held her just days ago, carrying her into the funeral home, setting her down at the kitchen table, the yelp of her surprise and laughter, the warmth of her breath, the smell of her hair. It was enough to break him apart. His light, his precious flame that he would have given anything to protect, had been snuffed out, and now there was nothing but darkness.

He pleaded inside his mind, but the words never made it past his teeth. He shouted internally, begging her to wake up, to respond to the way she gently shook with each step, ready and willing to pay the ultimate blood price just to see her eyes open one more time. He would have never believed what had happened if it not for the limpness of her body, the blood matting in her lovely white gold hair, the chill that was settling over her soft, pale skin.

_Please, wake up. Please, Beth. I need you, please, one time, just one time, that's all I'm asking, it ain't right, it ain't fair, please! Wake up!_

Even if he had been able to speak, he knew she wouldn't be there to hear the words. He mindlessly followed his family out of the hospital and it didn't register to him that the other members of his family had caught up until he heard Maggie's anguished scream, lending voice to exactly what was happening to his insides as he walked those brutally painful steps towards her, holding her baby sister's body in his arms.

Maggie crumpled to the asphalt, too fast for Glenn to catch her, though he dropped to the ground at her back, pressing himself into her, trying to hold her together even though everyone knew that nothing was going to be able to hold back this storm. Not everyone had been close to Beth the same way that Maggie and Daryl had been, but everybody had realized how much she reminded them of the first warm rays of spring that were finally strong enough to fight off winter's chill. Now that she was gone, everyone understood what they had lost, but Daryl couldn't even comprehend it in its entirety. All he could do was bring her close to Maggie so that the fragmented woman could clutch Beth's hand and wail as Daryl's world collapsed inwards, like a black hole destroying itself, leaving only darkness and emptiness in its wake.

There was no future for him now. For more than a year he had been unable to rely on Carol to be willing to fight for one, even if he was there at his side. Carol fought to survive, and damn she was good at it, but she would forever live her life refusing to allow herself to be happy, to hope, because of how easily it could be taken away. He didn't want to say he understood, but what else could he do, because he held the embodiment of all his hope to go on in his arms, cold, lifeless, and destroyed.

He didn't know how he was ever going to move from this spot. He couldn't even begin to bear the thought of putting Beth in the ground. He could not give her to the cold, dark earth. He couldn't allow it to smother her, to forever separate the two of them. He needed her too much. He couldn't let her go. She was light, light could not exist in the cold darkness of the earth. She did not belong there. She belonged with him, with her sister, with the group. She belonged in camp, singing lullabies to baby Judith to soothe her to sleep. She belonged with Maggie, trading playful banter and sisterly stories, sometimes even about the world before, and how things were different now, but that it was still ok. She belonged with him, winter ice irises meeting his own summer blue, flashing lightening and laughter as she called him out for trying to be a lone wolf when everybody knew it wasn't really him anymore.

Time stopped for him. There would never be an after. Only a before and a during. Before he knew her. Before he knew her strength, her bravery, her passion, her will. During the days he had grown to know her, who she was, who she knew him to be, so much more than anything he had ever thought might be possible, who she became to him. All those feelings that he hadn't ever thought he was actually capable of, that he had never dared to even consider, because he hadn't believed anyone could ever be that person to him. But she had, and during those days was the time he'd had hope. His hope was gone. His light, his will, his reason, his _everything, _was gone. And there was no one like her to come and mend him now. She was the only one who would have been able to put him back together, and she was a cold corpse in his arms. So slight, so small, so fragile, so beautiful, so fleeting. She was the only one who could be strong and be gentle at the same time. The only one who could smash his walls and leave him vulnerable to the pain, and yet protect him from it all at the same time.

_She's just gone. _

And there was nothing left to do but let the storm roll in.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: This is one of the few times I've ended a Walking Dead story in such a tragic way. Let me know if you'd like to see either a continuation, or maybe even a "fix it" fic. I'm open to the idea. **_


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